


It Rolls Through You

by bruisespristine



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Choking, Drink Spiking, F/F, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Pervert!Machine, Shipper!Machine, Smut, Strap-Ons, it's not really actually dub con, mentions of fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruisespristine/pseuds/bruisespristine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime before 4.11, Root and Shaw are out on a job, Shaw gets spiked. This did not go where I initially expected it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Root and Shaw Walk into a Biker Bar

**Author's Note:**

> Based on personal experience, which does differ. Please don't leave comments to tell me how I am presenting MDMA use incorrectly. Thanks.

"You didn't tell me it was a freaking biker bar." Shaw's irritation is, as always, clear in her words, and Root just throws a grin over her shoulder, swaggering into the hazy room. She looks annoyingly good in her leather pants, and Shaw stomps after her, trying not to look at her ass. At least she is wearing all black, as always. She doesn't stand out too much.

The bar's packed, sweaty, leather clad men muscling through to get served, crowding around a couple of pool tables, or just generally hanging out. Root doesn't even wait for Shaw, just heads straight into the heaving mass. Instead of following her, Shaw scans the room and then grunts in satisfaction when she spots their number. A greasy looking, weasel faced dude, working behind the bar in a sleeveless denim vest covered in patches.

In her ear, Harold's precise voice pipes up. "Ms Shaw, perhaps you should make yourself comfortable near the bar while Ms Groves takes a look around?"

"That does seem to be the 'plan'." Shaw mumbles as she elbows her way past a few men, resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose at the smell of smoke, sweat and whisky that permeates the air.

Finally making it to the bar, she wedges her foot on the nearest bar stool to gain some height, trying to flag the barman down. "Hey. Scotch."

He nods at her and she slides down, cursing her diminutive stature and wondering where Root has gotten to. A man puts his hand on her shoulder, and she turns, shakes her head at him very slowly, and gives him the full Shaw glare treatment. He’s a big guy, and Shaw calculates her best options for putting him down. She lets her thoughts show in her face, her lips twitching up in what is definitely not a smile. He dithers for a moment, and then decides discretion is the better form of valour, which Shaw supposes is a good thing for keeping a low profile, but she would have liked to break his arm a bit. Just for kicks.

She takes her drink and slides a ten to the bartender, then worms her way down the bar to the side. There are two stools, currently occupied by a blonde in heels that look like you could definitely puncture an artery with, and a fake redhead whose nose is so big Shaw wonders why on earth she would have pierced it. She places herself between the blonde and the wall, a space hardly big enough for her, but that gives her a spot to lean and keep an eye on their number.

Her first mouthful of scotch almost makes her gag, it tastes bitter and acrid, like the whole joint.

The blonde snickers at her. "Too strong for you?"

Shaw thinks it shows how much she has grown as a person that instead of punching the smug bitch right in her overpainted lips, she merely rolls her eyes and throws back the rest of her drink.

It only takes a few minutes before she realises something is definitely wrong. Her legs and arms tingle like she's had too much to drink and she can feel her heartbeat whooshing through her, pulsing so her entire body feels like it's throbbing. Her face is hot, too hot, and her hands aren't quite working as fast as she expects them too. She drops the glass, and it shatters on the dirty wood floor.

"Finch? Where's Root?" The words feel like she's spitting out solids, forcing them past her teeth. In her head, Harold's voice chatters away, but she can't make out the words properly, too busy looking at her hands.

"I'm going outside." She stumbles past the blonde, who gives a raucous laugh and points at her.

"Lookit the fish! All overcome. Poor baby."

"Root? Where are you?" Shaw bounces off the doorframe, the splintering wood vivid under sensitive finger tips.

Suddenly Root is behind her, an arm slipping around her waist. "Jesus, Shaw, what's wrong with you?"

"I got spiked, you total idiot." Shaw doesn't sound irritated, she sounds high, and that just irritates her even more. "That ratty bastard must have put something in my drink. Ooh, something good. I'm coming up pretty hard. You have to touch this wall, it feels awesome." The paint chips scratch at her fingernails and she can feel-hear the sensation though her whole body.

"Shit. He's the perp. That fits in with the gossip in the ladies room. John, can you get down here and cuff him? I've gotta take care of Shaw."

"You don't have to take care of me. I'm fine. Just really hot." The voices in her earpiece are annoying, so she takes out her comm and drops it on the floor, then starts pulling off her jacket. She hooks her fingers under her shirt, ready to yank it over her head, but Root's hands are suddenly on hers, stilling them. Shaw looks up. Root's so damn tall, all willowy and shit. The best Shaw ever gets as a descriptor is 'compact'. 

She growls in irritation, and then Root's thumb inadvertently touches her bare stomach, where her shirt has ridden up. She sucks in a lungful of air, eyes fixed on Root's mouth. The sensations singing in her blood are confusing, but the tiny piece of contact between them is the loudest thing Shaw has ever felt. She thinks she might drown in it, her body sucked dry as everything she is spirals out of that one small flesh-on-flesh spot, into Root's hand.

Root snatches her hand back like she's been burned, looking away from Shaw and down the corridor. She picks Shaw's jacket up with one hand and starts walking. "C'mon, there's a back door. John will get the bar guy.”

Shaw doesn’t want Root to go, she wants Root to press up against her and look at her with those big, deceptively innocent eyes and smirk at her with those soft lips and mmm. Root is walking fast ahead of her, and Shaw hurries to catch up, sliding her hands over the soft leather of Root’s jacket and onto her slender waist. Root groans, quiet and low, reverberating in the thick air of the red painted corridor and then slides out of Shaw’s grip.

“C’mon Shaw, let’s get you home.” There’s a little hitch in her voice that Shaw enjoys, but the words make her pout.

“No, Root, I don’t wanna go home. I wanna dance with you. Naked. Naked dance.” Her eyes rove all over Root, tracing the lines of her leather pants and the folds in her jacket. 

“No, Shaw. No you don’t. Come on. Don’t make me taze you.” She shoves the door open, and cold air billows down the corridor, tracing breezy fingers over Shaw’s hypersensitive skin. She plasters herself against Root’s back, using her superior strength to bundle the hacker against the brick wall, pushing her flat against it and making the air oomph from her chest. 

“I didn’t mind you tazing me.” Shaw feels her stomach tighten in pleasurable memory of that first encounter, Root ziptying her to the chair. She hadn’t been lying when she said she enjoyed that kind of thing. The feeling of helplessness, tied in with confidence that if she really had to, really _wanted_ to she could reverse their positions. There’s no denying it did it for her.

Root looks down at her, and bites her lip, face painted in stark lines by the street lights illuminating the parking area. For a split second Shaw thinks Root is going to kiss her, and tips her head up in anticipation, licking her lower lip and moving her hand to press against Root’s throat, lightly gripping her but pulling her forward, not pushing her away.

The moment stretches out between them, something heavy and syrupy, both of them barely breathing, and then a crashing sound shatters it, the main door to the bar banging open. Shaw feels unsteady and lightheaded, and all she wants to do is press up against her friend and mould them together, feel their skin singing.

To their left someone clatters down the few stairs and they ignore them, still staring at each other, but the emotionally weighted connection is gone, and Root has shut down, Shaw can see it in her eyes. She leans in to kiss her anyway, convinced this is what they both want. 

“Oy, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? Filthy dykes!” The shout pierces the night just before Shaw makes contact, and she freezes, pulling back with a dangerous look on her face, hand still lightly resting on Root’s neck. She can feel her pulse fluttering under her fingertips as clearly as a drumbeat. 

“I’m not a dyke.” She enunciates the words clearly, feeling them drip off her tongue like poison. 

Root grabs her arm, squeezing gently. “Shaw, don’t.”

Shaw pulls away. “What, if they’re going to homophobically harass people, they should do it accurately.” She turns to the three men standing at the bottom of the stairs, standing aggressively. “I’m what I think you would call a ‘filthy bisexual’. And Root.. actually, I don’t know. How do you identify, Root?” 

Root makes a little noise that might be a laugh, or might be a sigh, Shaw can’t tell without looking. She can feel the adrenaline mixing with the drugs in her bloodstream, and she feels ten foot tall, invincible. She’s not dumb enough to believe the feeling, but hey, Sameen Shaw can take three scrubby bikers with one hand tied behind her back and blindfolded. She stalks over to the group.

“So, you wanna try that again, fuckwit?” 

The guy doesn’t even respond, just takes a half step forwards and swings for her. Shaw doesn’t even try to block it, lets it thud into her face, turning her head with the impact and licking at the new split in her lip. She cracks her knuckles. “See, I was hoping you’d do that.”

The fight is over by the time Root has made it across the parking lot, in less than four seconds. Somehow two of the men are down, and the third is on his knees in an arm lock. Shaw looks at Root, stares her right in the eyes as she snaps his arm. Root hears the bone break and licks her lips unconsciously. “Wanna steal their bikes and go skinny dipping?” 

Root narrows her eyes, stepping forward and touching Shaw’s bloodied lip with a fingertip as light as a butterfly. “Okay, but I’m driving.” 

Shaw thinks Root is probably only going along with it because she doesn’t think she can get the drop on her, but she doesn’t much care. She fishes the keys out of the groaning man’s pocket and tosses them in the air, grinning. “All yours.” 

They take the bike, a Harley, Shaw is pleased to find, and peel out of the parking lot. Root can feel the heat of Shaw through their clothes, plastered up against her back and holding on tightly around her waist. She tries to go slowly, make sure Shaw is safe, but receives sharp pinches every time she slows down too much, and reluctantly Root acquiesces to her demands, mostly because the short, sharp shocks of pain combined with the sensation of Shaw’s body wriggling against her back are settling into a dull throb between her legs she’d rather wasn’t there. 

The beach is deserted, pale sand sparkling under the moonlight. While Root makes sure the bike is out of plain sight and that the Machine will warn them if police are headed their way, Shaw strips off her outfit, scatters it down the beach and runs into the water. The sand is cool through Root’s leathers when she sits down, and she digs patterns into it with her fingers, while chatting to the Machine about the effects and side effects of Shaw’s inadvertent trip to partyville. The Machine reassures her that Shaw will be fine, so Root concentrates on not looking at Shaw swimming naked in the cold ocean, but keeping an eye on her in case she runs into trouble. 

When Shaw strides back up the beach, naked, goosefleshed and determined, Root’s mouth goes dry. She’s seen that look on Shaw a few times before, and every single time it’s resulted in her getting what she wants. 

Shaw stalks toward her. It’s the only word that fits. Her hair is slicked down her shoulders, and Root actually shuffles back on her hands, unable to break eye contact. She’s still not prepared for getting a lapful of wet, writhing nudity. Shaw threads her damp hands into Root’s hair, and the hacker is frozen in place, straddled and unable to move. Shaw smells like salt and wind, and she worms herself into Root’s jacket, nosing up her neck. 

“C’mon, Root, we both know you want me.” Her words are purred, vibrating against Root's skin. She runs her tongue down the tendon standing proud under Root’s ear, and feels her breath bursts into shrapnel, rattling like gunfire. Root's fingers dig deep into the sand, and a tortured noise bursts from her chest. 

“Shaw, don’t. Please don’t.” Her voice breaks, thick with misery, and Shaw pulls back, shock evident on her face.

“Why?” She rocks her hips a little, although it might be unintentional, and Root’s hands come up, gripping convulsively into Shaw’s hips and making her wriggle in appreciation, throwing her head back so her hair dangles and brushes Root’s bent knees.

“Because...” The voice is so soft that Shaw can barely hear her, and she leans forward again to catch it, pushing closer to Root’s warmth, seeking it out like a missile.

“Because?” She rocks again, deliberately this time, and Root jumps under her ministrations, fingers clenching again, hard enough to leave bruises. Shaw can see her nipples through her shirt, hard and desperate. She brings a hand up to brush her thumb over one, and Root’s nostrils flare, sucking in a huge breath. 

Root reaches up and stills Shaw’s hand, holding it flat against her chest, and looking at her with something in her eyes. Something huge, and unreadable, that squeezes Shaw from the inside, makes her feel like she can’t breathe when Root speaks. “Because you’ll hate me in the morning, and I can’t... I can’t.” 

Shaw goes limp, shifting her weight to her knees, straddling Root’s thighs and searching her gaze. “Ask your Machine. Ask her. She’s good at scenarios. See what she thinks.” She waits, folding her arms over her pebbled skin but making no move to get off Root, or fetch a shirt. Her lower lip is trembling, Root assumes from the cold. 

Root stares at her for a long moment, too long, making Shaw shift uncomfortably, but then she nods slowly. In her ear, the Machine obediently spiels through data, detailing interactions between them; Shaw’s elevated heart rate around her, pupil dilation, skin temperature increase, heightened breathing, all imperceptible signs of arousal. She glares at Shaw. “Just because you want to fuck me doesn’t mean you want to fuck _me_. You’re high, you’re not making good decisions. I’d be taking advantage.”

Shaw leans in and breathes right into her ear, hot and loaded. “Ask her to play you the audio from last night, around midnight. She’ll know what I mean. And since she’s a creepy perv you can guarantee she has it.”

The Machine pulls up the audio from Shaw’s cellphone, 12:06 AM. In Root’s implant, heavy breathing is heard, laden with desire. It’s four minutes before she hears Shaw come, Root’s name on her lips. Her pupils expand and she sucks on her bottom lip, finally softening her grip on Shaw’s hip. “Swear. Swear you won’t hate me.” 

“I’ll sign in blood if it means you’ll take me home already.” Shaw has the light of victory in her eyes and holds Root’s gaze as she leans in, finally placing a kiss on Root’s lips. It’s too soft, and too sweet, and Root shivers under her ministrations, pulling back. 

“If we’re going to fuck, we’re going to _fuck_ Shaw. Now get off me and put your clothes on, it’s freezing.” Her voice sounds harsh in her own ears, but Shaw doesn’t seem to care. She twists her mouth up and then gets to her feet, striding down the beach and collecting her kit. 

//she won’t hate you

“How do you know?”

//primary asset shaw desires you, enjoys your company, and is easily manipulated// do not worry// we will keep her// she fears her own emotions// it will be okay

They don’t say another word as Root kicks the stand of the bike away and drives them back to Shaw’s place. Inside, Shaw heads for the shower without a word, seemingly lost in thought. Root stands awkwardly in the kitchen, until she emerges, steam billowing out of the small bathroom. 

“What are you waiting for? Get naked and get in the bedroom.” 

Snorting quietly, Root does as she’s told. Her hands shake as she undoes her flies and she feels sad for some reason she can’t quite understand. When Shaw comes in she takes one look at her and rolls her eyes, scowling. “Well that’s sexy.” 

Root doesn't move, she’s curled up on the bed with her hands around her knees on her side, naked back to the room. Shaw thumps around for a minute and then the mattress bows down next to her and a warm hand cups her side, just above her hip bone. 

“How long?” The question takes Root by surprise and she shrugs, not understanding. Shaw growls in exasperation. “How long before I’m compos mentis again, in charge of my own faculties?”

//approximately forty minutes to one hour

The Machine pipes up in her ear dutifully and Root relays the information, still not looking at Shaw. Shaw grumbles something under her breath and then there’s a beeping sound from beside the bed. Root doesn’t look, can’t bring herself to, and then her breath catches in her throat like a physical presence as Shaw pushes up behind her, naked and so hot it feels like she’s burning. Root goes stiff, but Shaw just worms her arms around her and places a messy kiss on her neck.

“I set at alarm for two hours to be safe. Now I’m gonna lie here and try not to molest you, and in two hours, when I am definitely sober, we’re gonna fuck each other’s brains out. Also, I am gonna spank the shit out of you for making me work this hard. Deal?” Her harsh tone is at total odds with her soft body spooning Root, and the hacker finally relaxes.

“Really?” She’s so quiet Shaw can hardly hear her, but she can feel the eyeroll in the response.

“Really. Now shut up because I’m super horny and your voice is nice.”

“My voice is nice? You’re naked pressed against my ass and my voice is the problem.”

Shaw growls something incomprehensible and then bites Root’s neck, hard. She squeaks, and relents, reaching her hand down and threading her fingers through Shaw’s. “Thanks, Sameen.”

“Shut up” Root can’t help the smile that spreads over her face, and closes her eyes.

She isn’t aware that she fell asleep, but suddenly she’s being pressed onto her back, and something cold and metallic clicks around her wrists. Shaw hovers over her, a wicked grin on her face. “It’s been two hours. I hope you had a good nap. You’re gonna need the rest.”


	2. Root and Shaw Fall into a Bed

The sheet is stretched between them, but Shaw makes quick work of yanking it out of the way, letting the cool night air trickle over Root’s skin. Then Shaw crawls up her body predatorily, dragging her nose up first Root’s thigh, nudging at her hipbone, and up over her torso. Root feels the heat rush through her, the blood tingling and pooling in her stomach. She tests the restraints gently, and they clank, letting her wrists move less than an inch. Shaw’s lips are soft on her ribcage, kissing a path up her sternum, and then somehow suddenly, violently there are teeth in her bicep, making her whole body stiffen. The bite is hard enough that she can feel the blood vessels popping, flowering under Shaw’s gentling tongue, and then the shorter woman sits up, looking pleased with herself. She straddles Root’s hips, naked, and Root can feel the heat of her centre hovering just out of contact. The confusing sensations have kept her silent until now, but with the intent stare focused on her, almost questioning, she has to ask.

“Shaw?” Her voice sounds thready and weak and Shaw bites her lip, pinches her own nipple. 

“Yes, Root?” Her voice is, predictably, annoyingly steady. 

“Are you...” She trails off, not confident enough to finish the question, and Shaw looks pleased. Her fingers stroke down her own torso, lightly touching the dark patch of hair between her legs, and Root’s eyes track the movement, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Am I what, Root? Am I sure. Well, I am sure. And I’m Shaw, as well. I’m not high anymore, if that‘s what you’re asking. And you probably want to know why I’m finally letting this,” she motions between them, their naked bodies, streaked by moonlight sneaking in through a gap in the heavy curtains, “happen. Because you always want to talk, don’t you? It’s really irritating. But I guess you’re not going to relax,” she drawls the word out, rolling her hips, “until I do. The short answer is, why the fuck not? I let you listen to me jerk off, I spent hours thinking about fucking you into a coma, and here you are,” her finger trips down to her own groin and onto Root’s stomach, splaying. The muscles under her palm tense and jump. “All naked and yet, still, with the talking. If we don’t fuck, then things are gonna change between us anyway. So we may as well get the fun part as well as the probably shitty aftermath. The long answer will have to wait, cause I have better things to do than sit here and talk. So I just have one question for you, Root.” Her hand slides up Root’s body, delicate as a silk scarf, and then fingers close around Root’s throat hard enough to make her eyelids flutter shut and her lips part. “What’s your safe word?” 

The grip is tight, pressing expertly into her carotid artery, cutting off the bloodflow but not her air. Stars sparkle Root’s vision, and when Shaw’s hand releases, the flood of oxygenated blood rushing back through her is spectacular, sending shudders of pleasure through her from fingers to toes. She blinks dazedly, hooking her fingers around the metal frame of the bed and spreading her legs a little, wriggling with pleasure. “Ambulance.” 

Shaw quirks a dark brow at her, leaning down and Root can feel her breath on her cheek. “Your safeword is ‘ambulance’?” Her fingers press into Root’s throat gently-gently, but Root knows the strength of them and shivers anyway, leaning her head up to give Sameen better access. 

“Mmm, as in, put me in an ambulance, I might be dying.” Her words are light and airy, floating across the bed, punctuated by a little groan as she rolls her hips. 

Shaw takes it as permission, she takes it all as permission, and squeezes Root’s throat again. The delicate structure of blood vessels and cartilage and bone under her hand is so tender, so erotic that she rocks her hips down, finally bringing her wet centre into contact with Root, grinding into her pubic bone. Root shudders and jumps, Shaw counts out the seconds in her head and then releases her, leaning down to soothe the tender skin of her neck with delicate kisses. She digs her fingernails into the nerve points in Root’s sides, sucks lightly on her neck, and revels in the sensations of the woman under her juddering in the midst of the mixed signals her body is receiving. 

Root moans, the sound is low and rasping, and sets a fire in Shaw’s stomach, but Shaw doesn’t want to rush this. Not now. She’s been lying behind Root, picturing her come undone for hours, and she wants to draw out every, pleasurable moment.

Shaw pulls back, admiring the red marks littering Root’s pale skin, and the hacker moans in protest, fluttering her eyes open and staring straight through Shaw in a way that makes her insides clench with want. Root’s lower lip is swollen, she must have bitten it, and her eyes are blown wide with lust and excitement. 

Suddenly, Shaw needs to kiss her, even though that was never the plan. It’s something primal, undeniable, and before she thinks any further she dives forwards, crashing her mouth painfully into Root’s and tasting blood, whose, she isn’t sure. 

The kiss is desperate, Root reaching for her with her body, wriggling against the restraints Shaw clipped her into, and groaning into her mouth. Their hips slide, move, and there, slotted together perfectly, both of them freezing for a split second and then resuming the kiss. It’s messy and wild, sloppy and perfect. Shaw can feel every inch of her hypersensitive skin in a way that makes her wonder if she _is_ still high but she knows she isn’t, she knows it’s just want highlighting every single cell of her and making her buzz with need. 

Root’s hair tangles around Shaw’s hand as she grips the back of her head, the other supporting her weight while she pumps wildly, caught up in the moment. Root meets her with equal enthusiasm and abandon, their hipbones banging together and sending sharp bites of pain-pleasure into them both. 

The room fills up with the sound of their harsh breathing and light moans driven out of Root, into Shaw’s mouth to be devoured. When Shaw pulls her hand out of Root’s hair, closes it on her throat again and sinks her teeth into her lip, Root’s hips stutter. A high pitched whine breaks out of her, and Shaw drives forwards with even more determination, waiting, waiting, and then finally slackening the pressure on Root’s throat, but leaving her hand there, pressed against sweat damp skin. She feels Root come in every fibre of her body, straining as though she’s trying to break free of her own flesh, jerking and shuddering under Shaw panting hot on her neck.

She moans out a litany of words, and Shaw hears her own name in amongst the ‘fucks’ and the ‘oh god’s. It’s almost enough to send Shaw spiralling after her, but she needs more, and as Root collapses into limp stillness under her, she worms her hand between them and presses two fingers into her clit. Her orgasm hits her like a freight train and she sinks her teeth into Root’s throat, prompting another shudder and a moan of protest. 

They lie like that for a few minutes before Root wriggles. Shaw hisses as a thigh pushes into her oversensitive centre, and Root gives a little giggle. “Well, if you untie me I might have more control over myself.”

Shaw grumbles into her neck, reaching up and undoing the clasps with one hand. “I prefer when I have control over you.”

“Mmm, I think we all know that.” Root murmurs, wrinkling her nose in pain as she moves her arms down, inadvertently settling one over Shaw’s relaxed back. The smaller woman stiffens, as though to wriggle away, and Root lifts her leg a little, hooking it over Sameen’s ankle. “We’re not cuddling, we’re taking a brief time out between orgasms. Cuz coming on each other’s thighs is _not_ the only memory I am taking home. Not that it wasn’t hot.” 

The grunt she receives as an answer isn’t very eloquent, but the tension does drift out of the body pushing her into the mattress, and she rolls her hips experimentally. Shaw makes a humming noise and opens her mouth on the hot, tender skin of Root’s neck, making her shiver. 

Shaw is surprisingly obliging as Root rolls her onto her back, leaning down to draw a nipple into her mouth. _Should have known she just needed to get laid._ Root giggles to herself and Shaw’s questioning eyebrow raise goes unnoticed as her nipple is suddenly engulfed in wet heat, sending sparks right down her chest. 

Root’s hair falls onto her stomach as she lavishes attention on Shaw’s breasts, her hand curled firmly around a hipbone. When she feels Shaw’s hips start to shift she trails her fingers lightly down and pushes between Shaw’s thighs.

“Well, somebody’s ready.” The saccharine tone is accompanied by fingers pushing slowly into her, stretching her out. 

“What did you expect?” Shaw grumps, but pushes into the contact anyway, only to choke and reach down to grab Root by the hair. “Fuck, how many fucking fingers... jesus. Are you.. are you fisting me?!” She’s not pulling away though, tension thrumming through her as she groans, low and deep, letting her head fall back to the pillow. Her fingers twitch it Root’s hair, and Root grins up at her, wickedness sparking in her eyes.

“No, Sameen, I’m not fisting you. Do _you_ need a safeword? Hmmm?” She humms against Shaw’s skin as she does... something. Something that makes Shaw feel like she might be about to come right then, without Root even touching her clit. 

She groans out something incomprehensible, and uses her handhold in Root’s hair to push, making the other woman laugh into her chest. She wriggles down obediently though, and Shaw doesn’t let go of her hair, dragging that stupid annoying ... fuck, amazing, brilliant, wonderful mouth right where she needs it. Root murmurs something into her, but the words are lost, and everything is just this, just Root inside her and on her, and sucking her clit into her mouth and laving her with her tongue and Shaw unravels, spirals out of herself as pleasure rolls through her body in a slow, but unstoppable wave. 

When she comes back down Root is propped on one elbow, tracing damp patterns onto the skin around Shaw’s belly button and looking smug. Shaw halfheartedly narrows her eyes at her but really all she wants to do is relax into the sparks of post orgasmic bliss shivering through her body, making her stomach muscles tense and jump under Root’s touch. 

Seeming to understand without Shaw saying anything, Root shuffles up the bed a bit so she can lay her head on the pillow next to her, and they just lie there quietly for a while. It’s nice. Too nice. Root must be plotting something, Shaw thinks, but there’s lethargy holding her body to the bed. She thinks she may have blacked out for a moment or two, but she’s not gonna give Root the satisfaction of asking, and also, not talking is much preferable to talking. She feels more relaxed than she has in... maybe ever, and that should be impossible with Root by her side, but that orgasm, holy shit. That orgasm was from another planet, and while she’s tempted to ask how Root even did that whatever magic it was she was doing, she still doesn’t want to spoil the moment. 

Shaw definitely, definitely doesn’t fall asleep with Root beside her.


	3. Root and Shaw Wake Up Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please check the tags as there is now a little knife/ blood play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feeldoe is a real thing in case you were wondering.

Root stirs first, blinking sleepily at the white painted room without moving a muscle, a slow smile unfurling on her face. She looks to her right, Shaw is curled up, facing away from her, one arm flung over her head and the other under her pillow. She’s close enough that Root can feel the heat of her skin just millimetres away from pressing against her. She bites her lip in thought. Should she sneak out now while Shaw is sleeping, let the other woman get her head around what happened, or should she slide forward, press against her, go for a repeat? Either of those plans could go horribly wrong. Root knows Shaw well enough to worry about what is going to happen between them. Before she makes a decision, the Machine chirps in her ear.

//Primary Asset Shaw has a bowie knife under her pillow

Root isn’t totally clear on whether the Machine is warning her that there’s a threat of physical violence, or since She’s fully aware of Root’s proclivities, suggesting something a little kinkier.

She hasn’t actually made a decision, but the smooth expanse of Shaw’s tanned back, contrasting beautifully against the white sheets, is making it hard to think. Root can just see the curve of her hip, the dimples of muscle that lead down to her ass, and she’s reaching out to stroke that soft looking skin without really thinking it through.

Then she’s on her back, pressed into the mattress, trapped under a hundred and thirty pounds of growling Shaw with something cold and very sharp pressed to her neck. And, bonus, they’re both already naked. Root feels the arousal flood her face, lips slackening and parting, eyes focusing intently on Shaw’s angry mouth, cheeks heating. 

Shaw blinks away the confusion of sleep, and it’s the hottest thing Root has ever seen. Last night was dark, and frantic, but now with morning light streaming over them, Root can see everything, every detail of the woman she’s obsessed with. Her dark brown eyes clear, and her face softens a little, out of its ‘fight or fight’ (Root has yet to see Shaw run away from anything except her) mode and into awareness. 

“Morning, sweetie. This is... familiar.” Root licks her lips slowly, tasting the faint echo of Shaw on them. She lets her legs fall open, hoping against hope that Shaw won’t just kick her out. She’s prepared to bring out the big guns, and so she slowly reaches up for the hand that’s holding a six inch blade against her tender neck. But instead of pulling it away, she pushes against it, just slightly. The strength in Shaw’s arm feels like iron, but the blade of the knife slides against her skin, just slightly. Enough for her to feel it split. She bites her lip, her eyes hooded as she looks up at the woman above her. 

Shaw is almost trembling with repressed energy, her muscles practically vibrating. Her eyes flit between Root’s throat, which must be necklaced with bruising, and Root’s mouth, swollen and tender as well. 

A bead of blood breaks free from the knife blade, sprints down Root’s neck, dragging Shaw’s eyes with it. They stay frozen, pressed together, body to body, and Root can’t figure out what Shaw is thinking, really. Heat is coiled in her belly, and she wants Shaw to move, to roll against her, to draw out the fire and turn it into an inferno. 

And then the knife moves.

Shaw angles it, drags it point first down, down to Root’s clavicle, across the delicate bone to the point in the centre, up to her Adam’s apple. The pressure is slight, but Root feels like it’s dragging her whole body in its wake. Her breath hitches, comes in short, strained pants, and Shaw’s eyes darken with lust. 

The blade presses in for a moment, nicks the skin, and Root thinks with pleasure what the boys will say when they see her neck, wonders if they’ll guess how these marks got here. She shivers at the thought, already so wet she can feel slickness on her inner thighs, smell herself. Shaw can too, she knows, she sees her nostrils flaring.

The knife moves up, drags over her chin, surely leaving a thin red line behind it. Root’s nipples are in tight, painful points, begging to be gentled, and Shaw leans down a little so their chests press together and Root sighs in relief. “Please.”

“Please what?” Shaw’s voice is low and gravelly, arousal staining the words so deeply it’s like Root can feel it humming through her bones. 

“Anything. Anything you want.” The knife traces a path up to her lips, presses flat against them and Root can’t breathe, can’t think, only feel the skin that’s burning against hers and the cool steel against her mouth and the weight of Shaw pushing her down and down and down. Shaw slips easily between her legs as her knees fall open, and Root feels the shudder run through Shaw’s body as she feels how wet Root is, soaked, even, pressed against her stomach muscles.

Shaw tenses for her, giving her something to push against, some contact. Root’s never been this easy in her life, coming all over Shaw’s thigh yesterday just from a bit of choking, and now she’s on the verge again, just feeling Shaw’s sixpack grind into her desperate pussy with the feel of a knife blade on her mouth.

Shaw moves the blade again, catching Root’s lower lip and reopening the cut from the night before, blood slides into her mouth, hot and metallic, and the groan Shaw gives when she leans in to clean up the mess with her tongue reverberates through Root’s whole body. “Shaw... God, Shaw.” The need is thick and potent in her voice, she can’t hide it. Shaw tenses again, rolls her stomach muscles, and Root thinks she could spend the rest of her life like this and then Shaw’s empty hand is squirming a path between them The hand holding the knife pushes into the pillow next to Root’s head, and she can see the gleaming metal out of the corner of her eye but then Shaw lifts a little to make space for her hand and then she’s stroking Root, touching her from top to bottom, but she’s too wet, it’s not enough, she can’t feel enough. 

“Please.” She chokes out the word again, not even sure what she’s asking for, and Shaw looks down at her, blood flushing her cheeks and chest, then leans down to kiss her. 

Root digs one hand into the mattress, the other into Shaw’s ass, trying to pull her closer, get more pressure, get Shaw to slide her fingers into her, but Shaw’s just teasing, dragging them up and down and around but never just there, where she’s begging to be filled. She doesn’t know how long it goes on for, Shaw stringing her out into a begging, pleading mess, holding her down with her hands as vicious and unbreakable as any handcuffs, but eventually she’s so close she can feel tears in her eyes, knowing she just needs a little more, but unable to get it. Shaw won’t let her fall over the edge, holding her there, fingers too gentle to push her past the point of no return, and the look on her face as she watches Root squirming and desperate is so beautiful Root almost doesn’t want it to ever end. 

Shaw brings her hand up to her lips, cleans Root off her fingers with her tongue, and her eyes actually roll back in pleasure when she does. Root lets out a whine of frustration and Shaw leans down to kiss her, strokes her jaw with her face and then, blessedly, starts marking a trail down Root’s heaving body with her mouth. She doesn’t linger too long, leaves red patches of skin fading in her wake but closes her lips around Root’s clit without any more teasing, enters her with three fingers, and Root comes apart just like that, with almost the first touch of her tongue. 

The orgasm is one of those, rolling, spreading ones that leaves you gasping, juddering in its path, but Shaw doesn’t let go, doesn’t stop. She strokes Root with her flat tongue, teases her entrance with slick fingers until she feels her clenching again, whole body tightening and jerking under her touch. Then she places a few gentle kisses on Root’s oversensitive skin and leans her damp cheek against Root’s damp thigh and waits for her to recover. 

Her breathing slowly returns to normal and Shaw grins against her leg. Root tugs at her hair, and then her body, pulling her up so they’re level, but then hooking her hand around Shaw’s hip and urging her further, too spent for words. Shaw gets the idea though, and crawls up, straddling Root’s face and curling strong fingers around the headboard. Root hums in pleasure as she gently noses at Shaw’s most intimate folds, but Shaw doesn’t want gentle, pushes down on her and grinds into her face until she gets the message and grabs her thighs tightly, mouthing against her faster, harder. 

When she pushes her tongue inside Shaw doubles up, and Root reaches up to pinch her nipple, almost hard enough to draw blood. The warring pain-pleasure signals spark through Shaw and she moves one hand off the headboard so she can touch her clit, send herself over, but Root bats her hand away angrily, defending her territory. She tongue fucks Shaw until her whole body is shaking, forcing her clit against Root’s nose hard enough to half smother her, but Root doesn’t pull back, doesn’t relent. When Shaw comes, she squeezes Root’s head so hard she almost blacks out from lack of air. 

The smaller woman collapses backwards, legs giving way, and lies with her head pillowed on Root’s thigh as both of them breathe heavily, regaining control of their bodies. They’re sweaty, sticky and hot pressed together, and Shaw doesn’t really want to move, but eventually has to roll sideways for more comfortable territory. 

Root recovers first, turns her head to press a kiss to Shaw’s thigh and then slides out of bed on only slightly shaky legs, heading for the door. Shaw watches her go, but doesn’t have the energy to ask where. The hacker comes back with a huge glass of water, drinking from it and walking toward the bed at the same time. She offers it to Shaw with a lopsided grin. “It’s important to hydrate.” 

Shaw snorts and takes it, propping herself up on an elbow and draining the rest of the liquid in two enormous gulps. “You certainly lost a lot of fluids.”

The smirk on Root’s face is the one that makes Shaw want to punch it or kiss it, and Root looks at her like she knows it. Then she cocks her head to one side, clearly listening to the Machine. Shaw raises an eyebrow, wondering if they have a number. That could be a really good way to bring an end to this situation without having to awkwardly talk about it. 

Root’s grin widens, into the one Shaw refers to internally as ‘shit-eating number four, something terrible/brilliant is about to happen’. About to ask what is going on, she’s cut off when Root raises a finger in a clear ‘hold on’ motion and walks towards the chest of drawers. 

Confused, Shaw waits, and then Root tugs open the bottom draw and Shaw almost falls off the bed in surprise. When Root turns around she’s holding Shaw’s favourite strap-on, the big black feeldoe that doesn’t have a harness, just slots inside you both in an ingenious way. The ‘strapless strap-on’. Apart from being impossible to pack, it’s pretty much the best toy Shaw owns. Shaw’s eyes flick from Root to the toy and back again, caught between arousal and anger, which is by no means an unfamiliar state. Root just inspects the toy thoughtfully, and raises an eyebrow at Shaw.

“So, how do we decide who tops?” 

And Shaw somehow knows that things are going to stay the same between them, but nakeder. She thinks she can handle that. Her eyebrow goes up in challenge. “Arm wrestling?” 

Root snorts, wrapping her finger and thumb around the bulb end of the toy and her eyes widen a little. She grabs a wipe and cleans the silicone off with precise, even motions. “Cards?” 

“You have a supercomputer in your brain, you’ll obviously cheat at cards.” Shaw says, in what she hopes is a reasonable and calm voice as Root prowls towards the bed and lifts one leg, resting her foot on the mattress, her intentions clear. “Why don’t we just take it in turns?” She squeaks a little as the end as Root slides the smaller end of the toy into herself, unable to keep her words even. 

Root groans with her eyes shut as the toy pops into place, holding on to it with one hand. “Sounds fair to me. So, Sameen. What does it take to get you to suck a dick?” 

Shaw gulps, sitting back on her hands in case she reaches out, half enjoying and half hating the power play. “Uh...”

“Let’s find out.” The look on Root’s face is equal parts terrifying and arousing, and Shaw can’t decide what she hopes is gonna be the outcome of this conversation. She’s pretty sure it’s going to be fun either way though...


End file.
